Page 28 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Paris came out of the back room that served as his office, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Speaking of the cotton mill, I managed to get Mr. McRae to agree to a meeting this afternoon. Why not accompany me?”

“Shouldn’t I stay here in case a patient comes in?”

“No, we won’t be long. I often draw a picture of where I will be in case of an emergency, since most people cannot read.”

Cristyn smiled. “How clever.”

“You should meet this McRae, and see what I am up against. I hope to persuade him to purchase the wheel for the bad air conditions within the mill. Also, I mean to examine the orphan children in his employ. He finally agreed to allow it when I said there would be no cost to him. You can assist me.”

“He has orphans working for him?”

“Well, I am not quite sure if all of them are technically orphans, but most are no doubt pauper children dependent on poor law guardians. Mill owners often make contracts with these guardians to supply them with a cheap work force.”

“That sounds barbaric, bordering on slave labor.”

“All the more reason to look in on these unfortunate children. Are they being fed properly? Housed properly? Limited to twelve-hour workdays, as outlined by the Health and Morals of Apprentices Act? We will have to be subtle in our inquiries, or McRae will not allow us to see the children at all.” Paris tossed the cloth aside. “I’ve met the man on a couple of occasions. I do not like him. Too arrogant by half, and the cruel gleam in his eye certainly gave me pause.” Paris pointed to a cloth bag. “In there I have placed slices of apple and fresh bread. We will slip the children some food when we can.”

“Is it as dismal as all that?” Cristyn exclaimed.

“Yes. These children were no doubt malnourished when they arrived at the mill. We had best head there directly, before the man changes his mind.”

Donning their coats, they started out on the journey to the cotton mill at the edge of the village. Since it was the first week of July, they decided to walk. The sun was out, burning its way through the coal haze of the morning. The wretched poverty in this village always struck Cristyn afresh; the poor condition of the houses and roads were testament to that. The villagers’ expressions of dreary hopelessness made the situation all the more tragic.

Paris did say an inquiry had been opened by the queen, and a Mr. Muggeridge had made several trips to the village the past year to investigate the lingering poverty. However, government ground at a snail’s pace, and any improvements would be slow in coming. Those villagers who did not work at the mill often toiled in their homes morning to late night on stocking looms they had to pay rent on.

As they emerged from the pathway through a small area of woods, the L-shaped brick mill came into view. It had a water wheel, and was located next to a river.

“The mill uses water to power a steam engine, which in turn runs the spinning looms. Coal is also used. There are a little over one hundred people employed here; I am not sure if that figure includes the children,” Paris stated.

As they walked through the stone archway, Cristyn could see a man standing in front of the second story window, watching them closely. His imperious stare had her guessing he was the owner, Mr. McRae. In the courtyard, men were unloading bales of cotton from wagons pulled by large dray horses. The bales were bundled onto handcarts and dispatched to various locations of the mill.

Before they reached the front entrance, a short man with a receding hairline and a nervous gaze hurried out to greet them. “Dr. Middlemiss? I’m Mr. McRae’s personal secretary, Mr. Meeker. He bade me to escort you to the children. They are awaiting you in the storage warehouse.”

“I thought to examine them in their dormitory. There is one, I trust?”

The man’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, of course, but Mr. McRae prefers you carry out the exam in here.” He pointed to a nearby door. “If you please, Doctor. And Miss…?”

“This is Miss Bevan, my nurse and assistant.”

“Follow me, please.” Mr. Meeker opened the door and sunlight flooded the darkened room. A cluster of children standing close together flinched at the bright sun, as if not used to it.

“Doctor, why don’t we examine the children here, in the out-of-doors? It is a beautiful day,” Cristyn suggested.

“What a brilliant proposal, Miss Bevan.” Paris gave her a wink.

Mr. Meeker’s cheek twitched. “I’m not sure we should.” He glanced nervously at the second story window. The owner was no longer there.

“Nonsense, Mr. Meeker. I only need a table and chair set up by the door. Assist me, will you, please?” Paris crossed the threshold. “Good afternoon, children. I am Dr. Middlemiss. Please, come and stand by Miss Bevan.”

They tentatively stepped outside, and Cristyn did a quick head count. Twenty-one children, but it was hard to ascertain their ages due to obvious malnutrition. They were pale and thin, their clothes patched and tattered. Their faces and hands were dirty. Her heart filled with sympathy.

Once the table and chair were in place, Paris turned to Mr. Meeker. “There is no need for you to stay, as this may take some time.”

“Mr. McRae specifically ordered me to witness the examination, then bring you directly to his office. Only you, not Miss Bevan. I am sorry.”

The man didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Cristyn fought to keep her distaste for this sycophant from showing on her face.

“Nevertheless, I ask you give my patients a modicum of privacy, at least the girls. Return in fifteen minutes.”